A different shack
by drugan
Summary: Spoilers for Iron Man 3. Tony chose a different shack in Tennessee.


Anthony Stark cringed at the sound as he hanged up the public phone a little too violently. The brutal landing –his ego kept him from calling it a crash– had added to the mild concussion incurred during the destruction of his Malibu home. He was suffering from a throbbing headache worthy of his most epic binges. Luckily, he had developed the capacity to stay efficient even when impaired.

He took a moment to mentally re-evaluate his situation. It wasn't dire, but it wasn't that good either. He was in the cold and snow in the middle of Nowhere, Tennessee, for the next step of his investigation. His armour, damaged and useless, had been turned into a sled towed with strips from his clothing. A message awaited Pepper the next time she logged into the Stark Industries intranet to inform her that he was alive while his head made him wish he wasn't.

His next priority had to be attending to his armour; repair it as much as possible but, mainly, recharge it. The idea that he was hunting a dangerous terrorist without the backing power of Iron Man filled him with dread, almost to the point of another panic attack. A few deep breaths stabilized his feelings and he took off again, following the road.

Tony towed his makeshift sled for a good ten to fifteen minutes, passing a few houses, until he saw one that appeared promising. Not the darkened house itself, but the large run-down shack adjacent to it. A nicely padlocked run-down shack to be precise, which meant high probabilities of tools. Advancing to the sturdy wooden door, he inspected the lock. Solid, reinforced, costly; he deemed it beyond his capacity to pick. This needed ingenuity, which was a good thing. Tony Stark had plenty of that.

Searching in the innards of his armor, he dismounted the tracking beacon launcher and extracted the small explosive charge therein. A gunshot-like explosion later, he had a scorched door and a broken padlock.

The improvised burglar didn't felt one iota of guilt as he intruded into the shack. He had had few expectations about the content, well aware that most peoples would only keep a few tools, various knickknacks and small recreational vehicles in their shack. He had been ready to make due, work with what he found and get back to his hunt for the Mandarin. This is why he was blown away by what he discovered beyond the door.

There was a laboratory. A state-of-the-art laboratory. A state-of-the-art laboratory above any he had seen outside his company. Costly measures instruments, engineering tools of all sorts, high-end computers and metal-working machines were spread out ergonomically in the available space. Two oddities completed the picture. The first one was a reinforced hexagonal structure occupying most of the back wall, like the mad scientist version of a vault. The second one was a child's play area arranged behind thick blast-proof transparent panes. It was filled with a small table, beanbags, stuffed animals, toys and games.

Tony dragged his armour inside, putting it in an at-ease position in a chair near a computer station. Minutes later he had hacked his own user account in the workstation. He would have liked to scour the system to learn what kind of researches justified such installations, but most of the files were encrypted and, without Jarvis' assistance, inaccessible in a timely manner.

He had just networked his armour to the computer when a juvenile voice addressed him.

"Daddy will be angry."

The surprised genius spun the chair around so forcefully, he almost fell out of it. At the door stood this wisp of a little girl, wearing only red snow boots and a Hulk-themed hooded one-piece pajama (green with darkened muscle-like lines and a purple waist). She had dark hairs messily tucked under her hood and icy blue eyes. He estimated her age between eight and ten but, with her small stature and her childish attire, it was more a guesstimate than a reasoned hypothesis. A little sleeping puppy was nested in her arms. For the briefest of moment, the animal seemed to emit a greenish glow. Tony discarded it as a trick of the light.

The little girl acted perfectly at ease in the presence of an intruder, in the middle of the night, right in the family's shack. In fact, her whole body language radiated a blend of spunk, self-confidence, amusement, curiosity and a dash of sleepiness. Stark came to three conclusions right there and then: he liked that kid; that pajama was teasing-gold against Banner; he really wanted to test if that confidence was just for show.

"You're a very brave little girl, coming in here. I could be dangerous."

She shrugged her shoulder.

"Maybe I'm a bad guy..." he insisted, trying to look villainy.

"Nope." she replied, popping the 'p'. "Bad guys wear white or hazat... hamat... HAZMAT suits."

That… didn't make sense and he stammered on a retort. Not one to consider losing a conversation to a kid, he let out the first idea that came to his mind.

"I could have removed my hazmat suit."

"Uh-uh. Daddy says the bad guys are too stupid to remove their suits."

Tony decided at that moment, mainly for his own sanity, that the girl either had a very fertile imagination or that she was talking about a cartoon on television. He had to put that conversation back to saner grounds. She pre-empted him with a question of her own.

"Are you Iron Man's human half?"

Weird way of expressing it, yet it appeared oddly factual to him. He readily acknowledged.

"Cool..." she exclaimed, babbling her appreciation, not noticing she had already lost her audience attention. The single member of that audience was concentrating behind her, to the teen that had just entered silently.

It was a boy, not quite aged to maturity but getting there, whose appearance conveyed an unmistakable blood link with the younger child: same black hairs, same blue eyes, same overall facial structure. Only the attitude was diametrically different. Where the little girl had exuded confidence and openness, the teen displayed nervousness, restraint and self-control. His first reaction at seeing the eccentric intruder had been alarm and recognition, immediately followed by a threat assessment worthy of Natasha. Only then had he relaxed a little, but there was no doubt that Tony wasn't welcomed. It didn't bother the inventor on bit. It was, after all, a frequent response to his illustrious presence.

"Danielle Jasmine..." declared the older kid in a stern parental voice. Danielle didn't react negatively at the scolding tone, not losing her spunk. She just stopped her chatting, turned around and launched herself in the arms of the boy – almost squishing her dog – with a squealed "Daddy!"

Had he been drinking at that particular moment, Tony would have surely choked. In facts, he did almost choked on what little saliva was present in his pasty mouth. It was baffling. A boy not past eighteen couldn't be the father of the not-quite-ten years old in front of him. It was feasible biologically, if in the extremes of human reproduction, but there was simply no way it had happened without media attention. A father that young would have been plastered all over the tabloids. It was tempting to interrogate the two minors, but a mouthed warning from the older one stopped him.

Still snuggled against her alleged father, little Danielle pointed the damaged armour.

"Look, daddy, look! Iron Man!"

The boy humoured her, taking a good look at the armour.

"He got split just like in your stories! Did he found the Fenton gho…" she continued enthusiastically until she was cut.

"DANI! Hush!" the teen ordered.

"But..."

"Dani, you know the rules. No 'G'-stories with guests."

"Yes daddy. Sorry." She conceded, not looking sorry at all.

The teen turned his attention toward his intrigued 'guest'. "Mister Stark..."

"You can call me Tony." interjected Stark before gesturing vaguely toward his interlocutor.

"Danny."

"So the little one's named after her father?" probed the older man.

The little girl sent him an angry glare with a shouted "Don't call him that! He's daddy." as if he had insulted the boy, while the later muttered a barely audible "I didn't name her". There was a sensitive matter here, further inflaming the fires of Tony curiosity. Danny saw it and attempted to nip the subject in the bud.

"Mister Stark, I guess you need to do some repairs?" he asked rhetorically. "We'll go out of your hair. Come on you, time to get back to bed."

"Don't wanna." Dani whined. "Wanna help Mister Stark."

Instead of coercing obedience, the teen simply sat in an empty chair not far from the billionaire. He put the girl on his lap where she cuddled comfortably, still holding her puppy. He then dropped her hood and started combing her hairs with long slow strokes of his fingers, simultaneously rocking the chair softly. Reluctant to break the heartwarming moment, the older man resumed repairs. As he worked, he explained random technical details. He discovered that both children were keen minded, the eldest being knowledgeable in quantum mechanics, electronics, computers and, peculiarly, biochemistry. His knowledge of other fields was spotty, with some glaring holes unacceptable in a high schooler.

Half an hour of this serene companionship was all it took for Dani to fell back to sleep, opening the door for more serious discussions. Tony wasn't one to let etiquette, politeness, common sense or gratitude interfere when came the time to quench is almost insatiable thirst for information. He also favoured a straight charge regardless of consequences. In a normal day, he would have launched a strong verbal assault, gone right to the point and, if reluctance to respond truthfully was still present, nagged or annoyed the opposing party into submission. This wasn't an option here. His opponent held a distinct advantage in the coming verbal joust: Tony needed his cooperation. It had to be played delicately, without antagonizing the shack's owner.

"Care to explain?" the genius inquired, pointing Dani with the wrench he held.

"Dani's... Dani's stubborn." was the hesitant reply. "Forcing her would have led to a shooting match and... well..."

"You cheated. You tricked her instead."

"No!" exclaimed the teen, indignant. "I... No. Not cheat... I... You... You make me sound like hi... a villain. I gave her what she wanted, but made sure she got the sleep she needed."

There was a short silence.

"It's the role of a parent." he added with conviction.

"Must be hard at your age..."

The words had escaped Tony's mouth by themselves, in a gentle appreciative tone, driven out by empathy and the regrets he still harboured for the years of unthoughtful childishness he had imposed on Pepper. Danny either misinterpreted or felt threatened by the subject as he reacted negatively, throwing a long belligerent look through narrowed eyes.

"Listen, Mister Stark..."

"Tony" the man countered brazenly, falling back to his usual overbearing arrogance.

"Mister Stark. You intrude in my laboratory and disturb my daughter's sleep. I don't stop you from doing whatever you need to do to get back in that tin can..."

"Titanium." cut the genius.

"WHAT?"

"This baby's made of titanium alloy, not tin."

"Whatever." replied an exasperated boy, rolling his eyes, behaving like the teen he was for the first time since his arrival.

"I don't stop you from repairing your TIN can..." resumed Danny "...but you WILL keep out of our private life. Clear?"

Tony felt he could still take this a few steps further without being thrown out.

"Does this mean I can't ask how she came to be?"

"I'm pretty sure..." declared Danny, trying another approach "... that you have your own private topics. You don't see me discussing your sex life with Miss Pott..."

"Damn it's good." retorted Tony, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"... or your past excesses..."

"You should think about it. It could help remove that stick up your..."

"... or the rumors about you and the captain..."

"Banner's more my style."

"... or... or... I don't know..."

Danny was losing steam. The billionaire grinned, already enjoying the imminent victory. He was a celebrity; he had experience dealing with annoying questions on private subjects. He couldn't think of anything that would make him ill-at-ease.

"... hum..." hesitated Danny.

"... New York?" he suggested, unsure, not believing in his own idea.

Two innocuous syllables that acted almost like a physical impact. Unbidden images were triggered in Tony's mind as a deep-rooted fear seized his chest, constricting his breathing. "Maybe I should concentrate..." he forced out of his mouth through sheer willpower. "I'll be out of here faster that way."

Embarrassed by the effects of his words, Danny silently accepted, his free hand scratching unconsciously the back of his head.

It took another hour, spent in tense silence, to fix the armour satisfyingly. It remained scratched, dented and a bit dirty, yet most functionalities except for a few minors one were salvaged. It just needed a full charge to be combat-ready.

"I'm sorry..." uttered a still sheepish Danny as the genius jury-rigged a charger from an old voltage converter. "We're on the regular grid here, and the current's so-so."

"Charge will take an estimated eleven hours, thirteen minutes." stated Jarvis' synthesized English butler voice, confirming the teen's words.

Tony shivered. He had hoped to continue his hunt for the Mandarin as Iron Man. It was disquieting to learn that it might not be immediately possible. He hid his uneasiness behind his signature smirk.

"No problems." He stood, stretching his stiff legs, and walked toward the door. "I'll simply get it back later. In the meantime, I've got errands to run."

The teen followed him out, careful not to jolt either the sleeping girl or her puppy.

"Good luck." he wished sincerely to the hero's back, who continued as if nothing had been said, not even turning the head. "And... well..." continued Danny "After Dan... I... There's... My sister gave me this tip when... if... if I panicked. Concentrate on the thing that is truly you."

Tony didn't reply, didn't look back, didn't even react. He continued toward town. The mysteries of the last few hours, no longer a priority compared to the Mandarin, were already demoted to some far recesses of his mind. His concentration was completely focussed on his task.

He never saw a second Danny spawn beside the first. He never heard the strange sound that accompanied that duplicate transformation from a normal black-haired teen to a glowing white-haired humanoid that faded into invisibility. He never detected the guardian angel that escorted him for the rest of that night.


End file.
